


Silver Lake Blue

by a_phoeniceus



Series: HQ Queer Girl Collective [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, F/F, Gen, Genderswap, KageHina Week, KageHina Week 2017, Makin out, Weather as a plot device, fem kagehina, femme hinata, femme kageyama, genderbender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-26 04:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12051141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_phoeniceus/pseuds/a_phoeniceus
Summary: Tobio Kageyama is a moderately successful artist, known for her intimate cityscapes and use of royal accent colors. She studies under Toru Oikawa, the owner of SetterSoul Arts, which includes a downtown gallery and an art center, where Shouyou Hinata has been trying to break in as a student and volunteer for months. Hinata is an aspiring artist with a lack of access to materials and classes, but a schedule flexible enough to be a model for Oikawa's figure drawing class, where Kageyama is a student. The moment Hinata enters the room for the class, Kageyama is smitten.For KageHina week 2017. Not related to other HQ Queer Girl Collective works. ;)





	1. Monarch Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama attends a figure drawing class, where a certain ball of sunshine is the model.

The clatter of pencils on desks, chairs and easels on hardwood underscored the soft, muted sound of rain on the SetterSoul art center roof. People were filtering in from the grey outside, dripping or damp from running from their metro stop. Kageyama sat ready for the class to begin, watching the newcomers with a flat, bored expression. Her art supplies are already set up, just left of the center of the room. She chose this spot for the light: the windows to her back brightened her paper without washing it out or casting a glare. Her shading would be better balanced, her lines more precise, in this light. She arrived early to take this space, because she’d wanted the best lighting and view of the simple modeling stage in the room’s center.

One of the last people to arrive was the teacher, who strode in with a confident, flowery greeting to the settling class. “Alright everyone! Thank you for braving the weather to be here today, I hope that you find ways to apply what we learned in the previous lesson to today’s drawing session.” Kageyama looked out the window and half listened as the teacher continued, “One of the biggest mistakes people make is drawing what they  _ know _ . Instead, draw what you  _ see.” _

The class quieted, and the sounds of people setting up faded, but Kageyama had to stop herself from snorting. That cheesy line was one of Toru Oikawa favorites. She heard it a thousand times a week during her one on one lessons:  _ Draw what you see, not what you know. _ The phrase was basically meaningless, for all the times she’d heard it. She looked out the window instead of listening, letting Oikawa’s words flow past her as she studied the scene below.

The colors outside were washed out and subdued, and all of the shapes were hazy around the edges. The rain chewed up the color and the hard, definitive lines of the sidewalks and buildings, giving everything a supple feel. Seeing that firmness melt away under the weather, especially from the second floor classroom, made her fingers itch to draw and to paint.  _ I’m not here for landscapes, _ she scolded herself,  _ Figures. You need something  _ in  _ those landscapes. After the figures you can spend the rest of the evening getting this feeling down.  _ That feeling was the smell of rain on pavement and the sound of it on a faraway roof, wrapped in cool, humid air. She began to pull her attention away from the world she wanted to draw, to get back to the task at hand, but caught a bright flash of color—orangey-yellow—streaking towards the main entrance.

It was gone before she could identify it, so she turned back to Oikawa, who was still droning on about how  _ she _ likes to approach figure drawing. “Look for the lines that draw your eyes, and focus on getting the foundations of those lines on your paper. The body wears expressions more fully than the face, so use your knowledge of human anatomy to capture what the subject is feeling—”

The door to the classroom flung inwards, and every person in the room turned to the entrance, where a short, flushed person was making their way in, chiming, “Sorry I’m late!” as they sidled inside. They were wearing a fluffy beige robe and had a smile so bright and wide that it dwarfed the subtle, stormy lighting as well as the simple fluorescents that hung overhead. Droplets of water trailed behind them, sprinkling the floor as they ran a tentative hand through their hair in partial embarrassment. Their face was bright pink, seemingly from running to the class.

“Oh, perfect timing,” Oikawa said, grinning when she recognized the newcomer “Come on up to the front.”

The late arrival bounded to the top, taking long, graceful steps that seems out of place with their short stature. They didn’t seem flustered, as if running late were a normal part of their life.

Placing a welcoming hand on their shoulder, Oikawa said, “This is Shouyou Hinata, she’s graciously volunteered to be one of our models for the remainder of the course.”

Hinata looked from Oikawa to the room and nodded. “Thanks for having me!” she said, her voice high and clear. She scanned the room, her eyes meeting the students’, and when she got to Kageyama, her attention lingered.

Kageyama sat, stuck in time, as the model’s bright eyes met hers. She was striking, with a delicately upturned nose, full, expressive lips and eyes a color as lambent as monarch butterfly wings. Her hair, candlelight orange in the light and a sunset copper where it curled around her jaw, framed her round face like a halo. Kageyama felt that shared moment in her soul, and found it replaced with longing as soon as Hinata broke eye contact to walk to the little stage. The model waited for Oikawa to finish her instruction, then readied herself to pose by stepping gracefully onto the boxy platform.

When she remembered to breathe, she looked up to find Oikawa’s eyes on her, a curiously smug look on her face. Scowling, she picked up her pencil and eyed the chair in the middle of the room, keeping her eyes to the side instead of on Hinata, who was untying the waistband of her robe.

Kageyama, from her stool near the middle, but left of center of the room, lifted her eyes and watched as Hinata’s deft fingers worked the knot free to slowly open the the beige terry cloth. Hinata’s eyes were downturned, but as the fabric slipped off of her shoulders, she looked up through her lashes to turn her vivid, intense gaze back to Kageyama, as if to say:  _ Look _ . 

The robe dropped to the ground in a lush pile, and the cool light illuminated Hinata’s lithe form. Beneath the robe, the only thing she wore was a pair of nondescript cotton underwear. Seemingly confident in her own skin, she kicked the robe aside and casually scooted the chair closer. She settled into her pose, sitting, then lifting her feet to hook around the leg of her chair. Folding her hands carefully into her lap, she stilled, turning her gaze away from to look discreetly into the distance. Oikawa announced that their drawing time had begun.

Breathing deep, Kageyama lifted her pencil to the coarse paper clipped to her board and easel. She wanted to focus on the rough feeling of the graphite on paper, but was caught in the way Hinata’s slim thighs sloped away from her body, her stomach soft and round as she slouched into the pose. She couldn’t keep the task at hand on her mind, the intensity of Hinata’s presence distracting her craft. Glancing around the room, she wondered if anyone else was as distracted by the model as she was. She didn’t see any sign of it on anyone else’s face, so she tried to work.

By the end of the class, Kageyama had memorized every last line of Hinata’s body. The smooth slopes of her arms, the way her hair, frizzy from the rain, curled around her ears. She tried to get it on paper, because for once, Oikawa was right. The model before them seemed to be  _ aching _ for something, searching as her eyes swept the room between each pose. By the end of the class, Kageyama’s paper was filled with Hinata— attempts at capturing those piercing eyes, the swell of her breasts, the wrinkles in the arches of her feet. Every last detail was drawing Kageyama deeper, in ways she’d never pursued in previous drawing classes. 

_ This _ , she thought emphatically,  _ This is what I’ve been waiting for. _

Oikawa made rounds of the room while students scratched away, trying to capture as much of Hinata’s bodily expression as they could during each ten-minute pose. She paused at Kageyama’s easel, “Wow,” she murmured, “It seems like you’ve finally captured the liveliness of your model. Try to bring out the distinction in her form, next. If someone close to her saw your drawings, would they know it was her?” She grinned as Kageyama stubbornly hunched closer to her board, and drifted to advise the next student in the row. 

As her hand moved, her mind wandered. She thought about what Hinata’s smile might look like in the summertime, without the dreary linen of winter, or how she would look, standing in the middle of Kageyama’s kitchen on a late weekend morning, a cup of coffee in hand. She wanted to learn more about that sharp, intense focus, which she was sure Hinata carried with her at all times. The thought of her posing, alone in Kageyama’s studio space, came to mind too, making the tips of her ears burn. 

The class ended much earlier than usual, it seemed. Kageyama dropped her pencil and examined the graphite on the side of her hand and wrist, marveling at how something so small could make such a big mess, while Oikawa began to wrap up the class. She tried not to look at Hinata while she fished her robe from the floor and slipped back into it, instead turning her attention back to the outside world, where the rain was beginning to relent. She hoped the rain would persist long enough for her to have the chance to paint at home. 

A chorus of thank-yous brought Kageyama out of her reverie, and her eyes met Hinata’s as the model expressed her own gratitude to the class. “I’ll be back next week,” she promised, breaking her eye contact with Kageyama to study the ground as she spoke. Kageyama thought she saw a blush on her cheeks, but Hinata was skirting the edge of the room to leave before she could look too closely.

Swallowing, Kageyama began to pack up her things. She moved slowly, so that she could be the last one to leave. If Oikawa had any other criticism, she wanted to hear it. 

“Do you feel like you’ve finally made some progress on your living figures?” Oikawa asked, appearing from thin air behind her.

Pursing her lips, she said drily, “It didn’t feel much different from before.”

“Drawing, or the class?” the teacher asked, arching her perfect brows high above her saddle brown eyes. As always, her teacher seemed to think she knew something Kageyama didn’t. It was a quality Kageyama put up with only because Oikawa was the best art teacher in the city.

“Does it matter?” she replied, focusing on putting her pencils and kneaded erasers back into the plastic carrying case she used for classes. At one time, she would have fought for this extra attention from Oikawa, but after becoming her student, she found the other artist to be all but insufferable.

Blowing a puff of air through her lips, she said, “You’ve been complaining for months about how lifeless your figures feel, and how bland you find my course. At the very least be honest.”

Shrugging, she watched another student approach, a question clearly on their lips. “I’ll need more time to figure that out.”

Oikawa gazed at her levelly before turning to address the waiting student, and Kageyama got back to collecting her things. 


	2. Silver Lake Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa arranges a meeting, knowing that Hinata and Kageyama will have reason to get along.

Hinata stood at the bulletin board in the main lobby of the art center, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she read through the assortment of postings. Her intentions were to both kill time before her meeting with Oikawa and look for other art-related opportunities that would fit her schedule. The last bus to her apartment complex left from the center in an hour, otherwise she had a long, complicated series of bus and subway stops to navigate before she would be home, but her meetings with Oikawa were typically short.

She sighed, nothing on the bulletin board caught her interest. She’d already talked to all of the independent teachers in the area and tried to join the art center classes a number of times. The costs, combined with her erratic work schedule and inconveniently-located-but-really-affordable apartment made it impossible for her to pursue her dream of becoming a successful artist. She’d caught a break, however, with the figure drawing class. 

After she’d called every last teacher, she’d resorted to roaming the art center to try to sneak into individual classes. Oikawa, coincidentally the one person she hadn’t really been able to talk to, caught her once, and had taken pity on her. “I’m starting a figure drawing class in a few weeks,” she’d said, after getting Hinata’s story, “I’ll need some models to rotate through the regular class, and I have a couple of artists who may be in need of models for projects. This sort of obligation might work for your schedule, and you may learn a little by being present in the class, at least.”

Of course, she’d agreed instantly, because Oikawa ran the art center as well as Hinata’s favorite downtown gallery by the same name. After exchanging phone numbers, Hinata did what any sane person would do and texted her about modeling, free classes, and volunteering almost incessantly. 

Today, she was checking in about her performance as a model as well as the potential to help out at an upcoming show. Running her hands through her hair, which was finally dry after she got soaked running on her way there, she looked at the clock above the main desk. She had a few minutes, but decided to head to Oikawa’s first floor office a little early. 

Nervous, she straightened out her clothes—which were still pretty damp after having been tossed recklessly to the floor in the changing room— and made her way down the hall to the staff offices. She knocked quietly and swallowed, feeling a trembling in the pit of her stomach as she waited. The door opened, but instead of Oikawa, the artist from the figure drawing class stood before her, her striking blue eyes widening in surprise. 

“Oh!” Hinata made a startled noise before she could help it, “Ah, sorry, I was here for Prof. Oikawa—” she took a step back, feeling her heart pounding in her throat. There was something so familiar about this student, Hinata could have sworn they’d met before. She’d spent the entire session trying to remember where they might have known each other from without success. It’d bothered her the entire time, and had taken every ounce of self control she had in her body to resist looking at the other girl at every chance. The art student was taller than she’d look when she was working, and the piercing, silver lake blue of her eyes was even more intense up close than it had been from across the room, which Hinata didn’t think was possible. Her long, charcoal black hair was down, now, whereas before it’d been up in a messy bun. She didn’t say anything, at first, but her lips, almost sorrowful in shape and expression, parted. Hinata felt herself flush crimson, she was obviously starting.

“Hinata! Your timing is perfect,” Oikawa said, breaking the strange intensity hanging between her and the artist. “Come on in, and don’t mind Tobio, she’s got no manners.”

The sound of Oikawa’s voice snapped the artist back to attention, and her expression transformed into a truly remarkable glower, which she directed at the teacher. “What would  _ you _ even know about manners?” Hinata thought she heard her mumble something along the lines of, “You’re the one that dragged me here last minute…”

Stunned at this casually biting exchange, Hinata paused in the doorway, watching the student retreat into the room. Oikawa, from behind her desk, smiled as if nothing had been said and beckoned her in. “I know you wanted to talk about today’s class,” Oikawa began as Hinata settled into a chair. The student had moved to the other side of the room to peer out the window, with her back to them. “But you did great,” the teacher continued, “And I don’t want to dwell too much on that, but I have an opportunity for you.”

“Really?” Hinata almost stood up from her chair, but held back and chose to lean forward in anticipation. “Does it have anything to do with T. Kageyama’s showing at SetterSoul Gallery next month?” In her excitement, she didn’t notice the student’s attention turn to her, and she started to ramble, “It’s their first big showing in more than a year and I just absolutely love all their cityscapes— muted in movement but still bustling due to their choice in accent color. I especially love how deep and vibrant their colors are, the morning and blue and periwinkle that showed up in their earliest stuff were my favorites. And since they paint scenery from around here it’s really exciting to find those locations in real life. I actually grew up here, and heard they did to, so when I look at their art it’s like talking to an old friend about home.” She started to hear herself and felt her ears go hot in embarrassment, “Of course, they’re the kind of artist I’d like to be, you know, someone who can invoke those kinds of feelings in people, so I would really love the chance to meet them and volunteer at their exhibition if that’s possible.” She closed her mouth, finally, feeling only slightly mortified by her spiel.

Oikawa had listened to all of this with a thoroughly smug, knowing smile. Parts of it, she’d heard before, but of course, she knew something Hinata didn’t. “I know all about your appreciation for their work, and it does have something to with them as an artist.” She laced her fingers together and rested her hands on her desk, then said, “There’s a decent chance that you could volunteer with that exhibition, maybe for opening night, but I’ll leave that decision to the artist.”

Hinata’s shoulders slumped and she studied her shoes,  _ After running into Oikawa, what are the chances of running into T. Kageyama and making that connection? Expecting Oikawa to introduce us is too much to ask.  _ Deflated, she fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of her coat. “That makes sense, they’re probably pretty busy.”

Tilting her head, Oikawa addressed the student, who was leaning against the window and watching with a particularly unreadable expression on her face. Despite the sour expression, Hinata couldn’t help but find her pretty. “ _ Are _ you busy, Kageyama?” 

Hinata looked at Oikawa sharply, then back to the student, who was blushing almost imperceptibly. Her first thought, when she realized Oikawa wasn’t kidding, was,  _ Oh, fuck.  _ She’d assumed that the student was there to volunteer. Their chemistry had also distracted Hinata from thinking too much about why she was there.

Crossing her arms, she looked to the side and said stonily, “A little.”

Laughing, Oikawa leaned forward, propping her chin in her hand with her elbow on the desk. “I meant to introduce you two properly, even though you were in class together today. Shouyou, this is Tobio Kageyama. Tobio, say hello to your new figure model—” she caught herself, then added, “If Shouyou agrees, of course.”

Stunned into silence, which rarely happens to Hinata, she turned to look at Kageyama mutely, feeling  _ acutely _ mortified now by her behavior. “I-I don’t have much going on,” she said meekly. She stared at the ground, willing it to open up to swallow her whole.  _ She probably thinks I’m such a creep. _

Kageyama gazed at her levelly, struggling to keep her emotions from showing on her face.  _ Oikawa  _ knew _ , of course she would do something like this.  _ She felt flattered, awkward, and irritated all at once, and in a dozen different ways. Empathy, too, for Hinata was buried under her own feelings of bashfulness, as well as curiosity. The poor girl obviously hadn't known who she was, so the intensity they’d shared during the drawing class was genuine and very separate from Hinata’s appreciation for her art. She felt exposed, and mentally decided to decline Hinata as a model, but her mouth had other plans. “You’ll have to send me your schedule.”

Hopeful surprise replaced Hinata’s embarrassment, and she was nodding before she knew it. “Okay, that sounds good.” 

Kageyama glanced to the side, then slid her eyes back to Hinata, who was watching her with unabashed interest. When their eyes met again, she felt that intense connection from the classroom and wondered fleetingly what the hell was going on.

A clap of thunder interrupted her thoughts, however, and the three of them started, turning to the window to look at the sky. Lightning flickered in the distance, and Hinata groaned, “I was really hoping it would let up before I needed to go home.”

“Are you still at the same apartment?” Oikawa asked, sounding troubled. 

“Yeah, and when the weather gets like this the busses fill up way faster,” she lamented, squinting at the window as if she could will the weather to change. She checked her phone for the time, “There’s only one left, but it might not stop here if it’s full.”

“I can drive you.” Kageyama heard herself from a distance, unable to stop herself from offering. 

Oikawa’s brows quirked in response, “That’s a great idea, Tobio.”

“Yes! Please, I mean, if it’s not a big deal.” Hinata worried the hem of her jacket, her fingers catching on the splitting threads. “It’s kind of far from here.”

Kageyama shrugged, too committed to back out. The weather was obviously getting worse, and she decided it was the right thing to do. She told herself that her offer had nothing to do with how magnetically drawn to the model she was. “You said you’re not sure if you can make it back. It’s fine. We can talk more about the modeling,” she said flatly.

Nodding eagerly, Hinata seized the chance, “Yeah! You can tell me about it on the way. This is pretty new to me so I can do whatever you want.” She blushed, realizing how  _ that _ sounded.

Chuckling, Oikawa said, “Alright, you should go before it rains too much harder. You don’t want to be on the roads when it’s coming down.”

“I’m ready,” Hinata blurted quickly.

Kageyama looked at her steadily for a moment, reading her expression. “I need to grab my things, but we can leave soon.”

“Do you need help?”

“No, it’s alright. Just meet me in the lobby, I’ll be down in five.”

Unsure, Hinata simply nodded, watching as Kageyama gave Oikawa a meaningful look before leaving. She waited a beat, glued to her chair, until she felt human enough to leave.

Without saying anything, Oikawa smiled at her reassuringly. With that support, she stood to make her way to the front. 


	3. Chiffon Rose Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The poor weather makes Hinata's building lose power, which in turn, provides Kageyama with an opportunity.

_ Power’s out, _ the message read,  _ No hot water, no heat.  _

Hinata sat in the front seat of Kageyama’s car, on the way to her apartment. They’d barely left the art center, and they hadn’t really started talking yet. She read the message from her neighbor three times before she dared to break the silence. “So, apparently our building lost power.”

Raising one brow, Kageyama said, “Really? It doesn’t seem bad enough to put out the power yet.” She tilted her chin to peer at the sky through her windshield, evaluating the darkening clouds through the rain before turning her attention back to the road. 

“Ah, my complex is a little older,” she said, glancing out the window. The weather wasn’t  _ that  _ bad, but she’s lost power in the middle of the summer before, so she knows better than to doubt the message. 

Glancing at her, Kageyama asked, “So, this is typical?”

“Yeah,” Hinata shrugged, “It’s no big deal, usually it comes on within 24 hours.”

“A whole day?” She frowned, contemplating her options. “Do you have anyone you could stay with?”

Humming uneasily, she replied, “Not really. My family moved a couple of years ago. Most of friends are in the same building.” Turning her phone over in her hands, she said, “It’s not all that bad.”

For the second time that day, Kageyama made an offer without thinking it through. “You can stay at mine. My building is pretty new, and it’s supposed to keep raining, so…” She cleared her throat, “We can still go by yours, so you can get some things,” her voice trailed off.

Hinata regarded her, studying the way her serious features were softened by the storm’s hazy glow. Her eyes, shadowed by the cloudy weather, read as dark slate blue instead of the lighter silver lake she’d observed in the classroom and Oikawa’s office. She sat far from the steering wheel, relaxed and reclined in the seat, comfortably navigating the unfamiliar neighborhoods and streets. Despite Hinata’s inability to give decent directions, they were going the right way.

“Um, okay. As long as it’s not a problem.” She let her eyes linger on the dark smudges on Kageyama’s hands, visible because the sleeves of her coat were rolled high, accentuating her long, slender wrists. Her eyes traced the shape of her hands, her mind trailing to less appropriate subjects.

Pursing her lips, Kageyama shook her head, and the ride was quiet for the rest of the way to the apartment. They didn’t talk about art, the center, or Kageyama’s upcoming exhibit, leaving Hinata to quell her wandering thoughts.

“Oh, it’s this one,” Hinata said, interrupting the quiet with a gesture. She cleared her throat, “You can uh, park there, and I’ll grab some stuff?” Her voice was tentative, as if she were expecting Kageyama to rescind her invitation the second she left the car.

“I said it was fine,” she said, more flatly than she intended.

Blushing, Hinata made a noise of affirmation and jumped out of the car. She bounded up the steps to her place, disappearing from view, and Kageyama had a chance to look around.

They were almost forty minutes away from the center, and drove mostly through town to get there. The way was convoluted, and surprisingly quiet given Hinata’s chatty personality. After seeing her in Oikawa’s office, Kageyama half expected her to go on about how much of a fan she was again. Heat rose to her face, and she rested her forehead on the steering wheel.

Kageyama had been painting for years, mostly the cityscapes that Hinata described before. She enjoyed taking scenery, typically unglamorous, and drawing out its meaning. Bus stops, corner stores, and parks were her go-to, and she frequently tried to find the smallest, most obscure places for her work. She was moderately popular and spent most of her time making art, which she supported with a part time job inventorying art supplies for Oikawa. Her mentor and part-time boss had played a big part in helping her to keep a low profile, too. 

Most people enjoyed her art in the same way that Hinata did: the limit color palettes with royal accents in navy, emerald, and violet, or the familiarity of seeing their own communities in posh galleries. Her reclusive nature had also worked in favor of her popularity, much to her surprise.

The thing she’d been missing, however, were the residents of her landscapes. That’s why Oikawa roped her into the figure drawing class, and that’s why she agreed to draw this remarkably loud, intense stranger. They were both sure, on different levels, that livening up her work would increase her success.  Although, her sketches of people never came out quite right, she had a hard time pinning their expression on paper and making them seem as multifaceted as her landscapes. She’d tried almost everything, but Hinata was the first person with whom it came naturally. The need to capture her fully and to see what would come of their working relationship was irresistible. The moment their eyes met for the first time kept returning to her, making her relive that intensity on repeat.

She wondered briefly, how difficult it would be to capture the color of her hair on canvas, or to mimic the shape and the honeyed amber hue of her eyes. She wouldn’t mind if it rained for weeks, if it meant Hinata would be close enough to know and to study. 

The sound of the car door opening yanked her out of her thoughts, and she turned to look at Hinata, who was far more disheveled than when she’d gotten out of the car. Her hair was wet again, and there was a backpack in her lap. “Sorry, I tried to be quick,” she said, scrambling to close the door.

Turning, she snagged the seat belt from over her shoulder and turned to fasten it, but paused when she saw Kageyama’s face. She turned bright pink, “Um, maybe I should have grabbed a towel for your car? Sorry I’m getting everything all wet.”

“How would you have gotten it here without it getting wet, too?” Kageyama was fascinated. In class, Hinata was as focused and still as a statue, in Oikawa’s office, she was direct and passionate, but now, she was almost timid.  _ Focused and passionate? Loud and annoying? Shy and clumsy?  _ She wondered which was the most accurate way to describe the other girl.

Her eyes, however, clear and piercing, were far from timid, and the air hung between them again. They both forgot Kageyama’s snarky reply, and held the other’s gaze until another clap of thunder reclaimed their attention.

Startled, they turned their eyes ahead.

“It’s fine,” Kageyama added, shifting into reverse to leave. “They’ll dry out.”

“Thanks again for the ride, and for letting me stay at your place.”

Kageyama snuck a glance at her. Her face was turned towards the window, away from her, and her voice was genuine. “It’s no big deal. I have a futon in the studio.”

At the word “studio,” Hinata turned her entire body to look at Kageyama squarely. The seatbelt locked with the sudden movement, and she asked, “You have a studio at your apartment?”

Thankful for the distraction of driving, Kageyama shrugged and tried to be nonchalant. “I’m a professional artist,” she said and regretted immediately, feeling like she’d just channeled Oikawa. “But, it’s comfortable. You’ll like it.”

“Were you going to work on your exhibition stuff there tonight?” Her curiosity was palpable.

“No, actually,” she said lightly, “I was just going to do a little bit more figure sketching.”

“Oh!” the excitement was obvious, but so was her attempt to rein it in, “I could—you know—pose, if you want.” 

“Maybe—” she was hoping for this opportunity, which she hadn’t realized until Hinata offered. “That would probably be better than drawing from a photo.”

“I’d love to,” Hinata felt the tips of her ears go pink. She swallowed, then while Kageyama was focused on turning onto a busy road dared to ask, “Are you showing figures or portraits at your upcoming show?” 

“No,” she said, then sighed. “It’s more of the same. Oikawa has said that I haven’t grown much in the last few seasons, so she’s pushing me to expand my style.”

“That’s not true,” she blurted. “The level of detail you’ve incorporated and the range of color has expanded. Your first works were greyscale, but you’ve started using more unlikely palates to show similar scenes.  _ I  _ think it’s really amazing.”

Clearing her throat, Kageyama shifted in her seat, keeping her eyes on the road. She felt thoroughly embarrassed by the praise and attention, and tried to change the subject: “How did you find the SetterSoul art center?”

“Through the gallery,” she said, a wistful note to her voice, “It’s really easy to get to downtown from my place, and I used to work at a restaurant across the street from it. So I’d go whenever I could. I’d heard about the center through there, and have been trying to make my way into classes, but it has never quite worked out.”

“Why?”

Sighing, she said, “I work as a waitress so my schedule changes a lot. The classes are kind of expensive and the center is difficult to get to. Being a model was the closest I could get to learning from the teachers there.”

Kageyama drummed her fingers on the steering wheel in thought, then asked, “SetterSoul is usually hiring at the center, but it’s too difficult to make it there?”

“Yeah, and the pay really isn’t enough for me to justify leaving my waitressing job.”

“I see.” At a stoplight, she snuck a peek at Hinata, who was looking especially small with her bag in her lap. She was facing the window, and there was a current of disappointment in her voice. “I, ah, faced some challenges when I was getting into art, too.” Kageyama offered.

At this, Hinata turned her attention away from the window, settling her intense gaze on Kageyama. “Really?” She didn’t know much about Kageyama as a person, the artist had kept her life so private that most people didn’t even know her first name.

The car rolled to a stop at a red light, and Kageyama continued, “I studied art, but when I went to school I was originally supposed to study medicine. I was halfway through my undergraduate coursework, but was feeling constantly overwhelmed by the amount of work I had. I was always kind of interested in art, and had taught myself some drawing basics, but I ended up dropping out and finishing an art degree through the local university and SetterSoul.” She shrugged, “I didn’t have a lot of support either. It’s still not easy.” She watched Hinata listen, noting the barely perceptible dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose. A car honking behind them made Kageyama realize the light was green.

“That’s incredible, that you’ve become so successful despite the challenges,” Hinata said, sounding so honest and genuine that Kageyama’s heart skipped a beat. “And you’re so much younger than I imagined.”

Pursing her lips, Kageyama didn’t trust herself to speak.

By the time they made it back to her apartment, which was more accurately described as a modest townhouse, it was dark. 

“Gwah!! Your place is huge!” Hinata exclaimed when they stepped through the door.

For her age and profession, the unit  _ was _ exceptional. The ceilings were high, the walls mostly windows looking to the woods behind the building instead of to the side with the neighbors, and it was furnished modestly and modernly. Kageyama had never thought much of her living space before, but inviting Hinata to stay, with the growing storm outside, made her feel acutely aware of her accommodations.

“Thanks,” she said gruffly, peeling off her coat to hang it on the hook by the door. “Are you hungry? I think I have a frozen pizza in the freezer, or I can order some take out.”

Hinata started to protest, not wanting to put Kageyama out, but her growling stomach interrupted her. Flushing, she stammered, “U-um, pizza sounds fine, thank you.”

After staring at her for a long moment, Kageyama drifted to the kitchen to turn the oven on to preheat. “It’ll be a few minutes. The studio, where you’ll be staying, is upstairs. There’s a bathroom on the left and then the other door is the room. You can get settled, in the meantime, do you want anything to drink? I have tea,” she moved to check the fridge, “And cider.”

“Tea is fine!” she stood near the door still, her bag in one hand, “If you have decaf, it’d be even better.” Hinata eyed the room and then glanced at the stairs, uncertain. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay in your studio?”

“I wouldn’t have driven forty minutes out of the way if I didn’t want you here,” Kageyama said, sounding almost sharp. She presented Hinata with her back under the guise of pulling the pizza box from the freezer. 

“O-okay,” she said, suddenly realizing that Kageyama was probably just as nervous as she was. “I’ll be right down.” She bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time to the door Kageyama described. 

When she was out of sight, Kageyama sighed, leaning against the counter. Hinata was no where near as shy and focused as she’d thought during the class. She wasn’t sure which version she liked better, both that and the boisterous, flustered version were intense and interesting.

Hinata, alternatively, was intimidated by Kageyama and even more intimidated by her workspace. The entire studio was almost entirely window, and overlooked the posh neighborhood and forested preserve behind. There was a desk in one corner, and a series of easels and canvases to the side of it. Across from the workspace, there was a futon that looked as if it had barely been used. To the side of the futon, there was a stack of finished paintings leaning against the wall. It was tempting to look at them, especially considering that Kageyama was Hinata’s all time favorite artist and the sort of artist she aspired to be, but she resisted, opting to take in every detail of the room instead. She felt like an outsider, and rifling through the canvas would have felt even more intrusive. Looking back to the easels, she flushed, wondering if this is where they would have their private sessions.

Deciding to not linger on that thought any longer than what was necessary, Hinata peeled off her damp clothes and changed into a large tee shirt and a pair of fleece pajama bottoms. She changed her socks to a dry pair and was contemplating the soggy pile when there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Hey,” Kageyama said, not meeting her eyes when she opened the door, “I wanted to let you know that you can wash your things here if you wanted. I know you were running in the rain before class.”

She crossed her arms, hiding her chest out of habit and regretting her decision to forgo a bra.  _ Don’t be stupid, she saw you naked already _ , she thought, which only made her blush again. “That sounds good,” she turned to get her clothes, trying to hide her face by turning away.

“Um, good. I’ll be downstairs, the laundry room is behind the kitchen.” Kageyama said before leaving.

Exhaling, Hinata put a hand to her heart, feeling it pounding in her chest. She tried to tell herself that reacting this way to her favorite artist, who was her age and  _ so _ much more beautiful than she could have ever imagined, was normal.  _ If I just play it cool, I’ll get through this evening and maybe learn a thing or two in the process. Just don’t say anything else embarrassing. _

The difficult part came, however, when they had finished eating and were talking about figure drawing. They were sitting on the couch, after awkwardly making their way through the meal, when Hinata asked, “Did you want to draw me in the studio?”  _ Fuck, why did I do that. I should have just let her bring it up. She probably doesn’t even want to. _

Her cheeks colored to a soft, delicate pink in response, surprising Hinata. She looked away and said, “Yes, there’s a stool up there, we can start soon, if you’re not too tired.”

Taken aback by the sweet, vulnerable way the question had been asked, Hinata looked at her for a long moment. She took in the way her ink black hair fell around her face as she tried to hide, as well as the high, graceful slope of her cheekbones. She knew, in that moment, that she would have a difficult time saying no to the artist, then said, “Sure. I’m ready.”


	4. Amaranth at Midnight Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything intensifies.

The sky was dark, and the sound of rain was steady above them. They were in the studio, which was somehow  _ more _ intimate than all of their previous interactions put together. Kageyama was resolutely sorting through her supplies, rearranging the things on her desk and a small cart that sat beside it. She’d already moved a stool to sit adjacent to the futon, and began to push the cart to the space beside it.

“Should I…?” Hinata worried the hem of her shirt, wondering what would be the most helpful and appropriate. The thought of undressing for Kageyama alone was far more nerve wracking than it had been for the class of twenty. She tried not to think about the way Kageyama’s eyes had felt on her during the class. 

Kageyama paused, obviously embarrassed by the mostly unspoken question, but said, “No, it’s alright.” Oikawa would have scolded her, because it would have been better practice to draw her nude, or at least closer to it. She found herself struggling to be professional about the idea.

“Okay,” Hinata hummed uncertainly, waiting for direction.

“Here,” gesturing to the futon, Kageyama said, “Do you mind sitting here? It’ll be easier for me to work with the lamp above you.”

Hinata followed her gesture, then nodded. Feeling hyper aware of the artist’s proximity, she delicately stepped around her to settle into place. She wondered how she should pose, and tried to sit comfortably, with her legs tucked underneath her while she leaned on the armrest. “Is this alright?”She had a feeling she was too curled up for a proper pose, but she was nervous to do anything too strange.

Kageyama looked her over, her dark eyes steadily evaluating the position she chose. Hinata felt a fresh wave of self-consciousness pass through her, and she held her breath, feeling that gaze as fully as if she were being touched. Kageyama stood with one hip cocked and she turned a pencil in one hand, slowly, as she thought. Unable to look away, Hinata drank in her appearance, committing every detail to memory. What she liked best were Kageyama’s eyes, deep and piercing, but guarded and expressive. She got the impression that if she spent enough time with the artist, she’d be able to read her every thought in that gaze.

“May I?” she finally asked, taking a step forward with her hands raised. “I’d like to change your position.”

Mute, Hinata nodded. Her throat went dry as Kageyama approached, and she had to remind herself to breathe. Kageyama lifted her hands, and she was close enough for Hinata to see the remnants of paint stains on the tips of her fingers.

She crouched in front of her, and met her eyes for a long moment to confirm that it was alright before reaching out to take Hinata’s hands. They were warm and fit almost perfectly against hers, and all she wanted to do was hold them for the rest of the night. Instead, she guided her to stretch out her arms, crossing them at the wrist for them to rest on the armrest. “Extend your legs, but keep your feet on the couch,” she murmured, her voice hushed and slightly rough. “Good,” she said when Hinata complied, “Now,” she tentatively reached out, keeping her eyes fixed firmly on Hinata’s, and cupped her cheek. “Rest your head on your arms.” 

The gesture was impulsive, but Hinata was grateful for the cool, lingering touch. She did as she was told soundlessly, and felt a deep satisfaction at completing Kageyama’s request. 

Hinata’s lips parted, and Kageyama’s eyes lowered to her mouth, and she knew, that if she closed the distance between them, she would taste the lingering jasmine of their shared tea. The white noise of the rain swallowed the outside world, and they stayed in that moment, suspended by the quiet intensity of the chemistry drawing them together.  Kageyama could feel Hinata’s breath brushing across her cheek, and felt the invitation of her parted lips throughout her entire person.

But Kageyama was supposed to be a professional. And so she caught herself, and pulled her hand away in order to straighten up and get back to the task at hand.  _ Professional, professional _ , she repeated to herself.  _ You don’t even know her.  _

This last thought motivated her to return to her stool, and when she’d pulled her sketchbook into her lap, Hinata had almost remembered how to breathe again.

_ I thought she was going to kiss me, _ she thought, bewildered. She had to resist the urge to bury her face in the sofa cushion, feeling flushed and flustered. In the long moments after Kageyama moved away and began to consider her supplies, Hinata wished she had.

“Ten minutes or so?” Kageyama asked, interrupting Hinata’s thoughts. She tried not to think about the fact that the artist’s voice sounded raspier and more seductive than it had before.

Nodding, Hinata didn’t speak. She didn’t trust her voice not to break or say something stupid.  _ It’s the classroom, all over,  _ she thought, then added,  _ but worse _ .

Now, at least, Hinata could drink her fill of Kageyama’s appearance from the safety of her silent pose. She stared while she worked, watching her hands move deftly over the sketchbook she rested in her lap. Her hair fell around her face, ink black and shiny and just short of being messy. Her shirt, a loose fitting flannel, was open at the top button, exposing the smooth, inviting skin of her collarbone. Hinata swallowed her thoughts and turned her eyes back to Kageyama’s eyes, grateful that the other girl was focusing on glancing everywhere but her own face.

She could feel Hinata’s eyes on her, though. It felt like she was looking right through her, all over again, and at once she felt completely vulnerable. She was trying to get an outline of Hinata’s body done, but the baggy shirt  _ was _ causing her trouble. Trying to avoid derailing their session by also avoiding looking Hinata in the eye was proving to be challenging, as well. Because if she looked at her directly, the drive to touch her would be overwhelming. She tried to focus, and when she got closer to having the outline done, she realized that the proportions were all wrong and felt unbalanced.

“Ready for another?” she asked, glancing between the paper and Hinata.

Lifting her cheek from her arms, she asked, “Already?”

“The angle,” she tried to explain unsuccessfully, “And your clothes,” she started, then shook her head. 

Hinata glanced down at her shirt, blushing, “Would it be better without? I, um, don’t mind.”

They were both beet red, but Kageyama nodded, her mouth dry. The tension was building, filling the room, but neither of them had the spirit to address it out loud.

Hinata shimmied out of her fleece bottoms first, which didn’t make much difference at first. It was when she sat up and slowly, purposefully pulled her shirt over her head, that Kageyama found herself awed.

“May I?” she asked again, quiet, as she set her sketchbook aside. She was moving on autopilot.  _ This is dangerous,  _ she thought fleetingly. The rational part of her brain wanted her to stop, but she honestly didn’t want to resist.

Another silent nod was her permission, and Kageyama crouched in front of her again, her eyes sweeping over the expanse of Hinata’s smooth skin. She wanted nothing more than to run her fingertips over the slopes of her shoulders and the crest of her thighs, to feel her perfection instead of just seeing it. Nervously, gently, she asked Hinata to lay on her side, trying to avoid staring as the model settled into position. Once she was horizontal, she turned her big, monarch eyes to Kageyama, expectant. 

_ Don’t look at me like that,  _ Kageyama found herself thinking desperately. She touched Hinata’s knee and guided it over the bottom leg, making the dip of her waist and hips far more pronounced. Her head was leaning against the pillowed armrest, and her hands her folded under her chin. Kageyama wanted her top hand behind her, so she reached out and tapped the back of her hand. 

Hinata, who had been watching Kageyama’s eyes skim over every inch of her, boldly caught her hand in her own and laced their fingers together. She heard Kageyama’s gasp, and it filled her with a thrilling kind of pleasure.

Startled, Kageyama’s eyes whipped to meet hers, midnight blue in the dark of the studio. The sound of their bated breath was slight, but seemed to mute the sound of the rain on the windows. She saw Kageyama’s eyes flicker to her lips again, and she pulled the lower one below her teeth without thinking, and saw a flash of unabashed desire on Kageyama’s features. Feeling bold, she pulled Kageyama’s hand until it rested between her breasts. At the contact, she warmed, her entire body growing hot at her own brazen behavior.

Shocked at her boldness, Kageyama lifted her other hand, cupping Hinata’s cheek, making her sigh with anticipation. The unintentional sound and the sure way Hinata pressed her hand to her chest had Kageyama feeling as though the world were fading out of existence behind her. 

Hinata’s lips, wet and pink and inviting, were irresistible, and Kageyama ran her thumb over the cushion of her lower lip before finally kneeling over to kiss her.  

It was as electric as the first time their eyes met, and the kiss, soft and closed mouth, opened and deepened before either of them realized. Soon, their hands were roaming, and Kageyama exhaled as she explored Hinata’s side, running her palm up and down the expanse of her shoulders, ribs, and hip. Hinata, in response, pulled her closer, gripping the material of her shirt and cupping the base of Kageyama’s neck to keep their kiss deep. The taste of jasmine and the satisfaction of finally having her close passed through Kageyama’s mind, which went blank when Hinata shivered. 

This reaction, caused by Kageyama’s fingertips brushing across Hinata’s ribs, made something hungry rise to the surface of her desire. She pulled away from Hinata’s mouth, earning herself a pitiful sound of protest, and dropped her head to scatter affection over her neck, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair. Lost to the feeling of her pressing closer and closer, Hinata arched into Kageyama’s movements, her breath growing more ragged and unsteady with every open-mouthed kiss.

A flash of lightning startled them apart, and they turned to the window at the end of the room. The sky was mottled black and a hazy, greyish red, and Hinata began to realize how fast her heart was pounding. When she looked at Kageyama’s face, flushed and wanting, she felt her traitorous heart skip a beat.

Kageyama cupped her face in both of her hands, loving the way her beautiful copper hair tickled the backs of her hands, “I’m glad you’re here,” she murmured unthinkingly. Hinata’s lips were stained amaranth, a deep pinkish red, from their kissing. Her cheeks were as flushed as ever, with the same tender chiffon hue as before. 

From the moment she’d entered the classroom, Hinata had been filled with disbelief. She half expected to wake up at any moment, to find herself back in her own apartment, in her bed, alone. Her favorite artist was drop-dead gorgeous and  _ in her arms, kissing her.  _  “I can’t believe it,” she said honestly, ducking her head to nuzzle Kageyama’s neck. Her breath, hot and light, sent a shiver down Kageyama’s spine. “The moment I saw you,” she murmured there, “I  _ knew _ .”

“I feel it, too,” she said, her heart fluttering as Hinata began to work the buttons of her shirt open. She shuddered when Hinata’s hands slid over her shoulders, slipping the shirt off and letting it fall to the ground. The cool air of the room was soon replaced with the warmth of Hinata’s skin against hers, and she felt close to being overwhelmed. 

“It was difficult not to look at you, in class,” Hinata admitted boldly, pulling away. She grinned, brightening up the stormy room.

“But you have me all to yourself,” Kageyama murmured, feeling almost drunk on the heady atmosphere. “Come downstairs, to my room, at least for a little while. Please.”

“Is your bed more comfortable than the futon?” she teased, pulling carefully on Kageyama’s bottom lip with her mouth. 

“Come find out,” she replied breathlessly, speaking lowly into Hinata’s ear.

They left all of their things in the studio. Their clothes remained on the floor, the session unfinished and the furniture slightly out of place. Kageyama learned, with time, what Hinata’s smiled looked like in the summertime, as well as through the persistent, luminous winter, and how she looked, laying in bed with a cup of coffee on a late weekend morning. She learned too, about that sharp, intriguing focus, her dedication to art and modeling (privately, mostly), and about the uncanny  talent she had for turning Kageyama to putty. That long, rainy night, that was the beginning.


End file.
